


A Guilt of Pearl Necklaces

by MistyBeethoven



Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [82]
Category: My Own Private Idaho (1991)
Genre: Adultery, Anal Sex, BBW, Dark Past, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Guilt, Hustlers, Infidelity, Insecurity, Limousine Sex, Limousines, Love, Love Stories, Love Triangles, Mistress, Overweight, Political Campaigns, Politics, Prostitution, Redemption, Rimming, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Shame, Weight Issues, rich man/poor woman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: Suffering the cause and effects of his cruelty and life on the street as a hustler, Scott Favor tries to find redemption in the arms of a girl he knew and mistreated years before.Progress finds regression, however, when his estranged wife Carmela returns from Italy and he must choose between his ambitions of becoming the mayor of Portland or the better man he has become with an overweight and poor coat check girl, whom carries the weight of his guilt.
Relationships: Carmela/Scott Favor, Me/Scott Favor/Carmela, Scott Favor & Mike Waters, Scott Favor/Me
Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You With a Story" [82]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589944
Comments: 26
Kudos: 3





	1. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott Favor contemplates guilt one cold and early December morning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the promised Scott Favor follow-up to "Prostitutes." Another third person entry to see Scott's emotions regarding events. I will see if the narrative alternates by the next chapter. I hope to have the "Swedish Dicks" and "Freaked" entries up soon too but won't make a promise. My schedule has been topsy turvy this month and I have a Poirot story planned for my sister and maybe a fic featuring Spanky's mom and Santa from the Little Rascals Christmas special.
> 
> But this series will always be my heart. So they will be coming. :D <3

She was under the bedsheet again, Scott realized as he opened his eyes in early December morning sun. Erin always found a way to crawl under it sometime during the night while he was sleeping. Was it voluntary? Maybe she did it without realizing, he mused, trailing the back of his hand over her still naked arm, making her stir in her sleep and nuzzle her head into her pillow almost like a small child. Her hair fell against her cheek then, curled and loose. It was like something seen on the angels in old renassaince paintings, only brown and not golden. He kept offering to give her the cash to go to the hairdressers and get it done, but always to his relief, she refused, preferring her hair wild, free and sometimes tangled, just as he liked it too.

Still it would have made him feel guilty if the offer had not been made to his most unexpected of mistresses.

Guilt.

Her body under sheet of silk and color of ivory, she resembled the hills of white early snowfall outside in an equally unexpected early winter. The swell of her hips, the bountiful bulge of her breasts and the protusion of her stomach, too large to make any of his current friends or business associates envy him for the possession of her. If they had known of her sexual proclivities, perhaps then their interests would have raised and some jealousy kindled, though, they still would have preferred someone far thinner.

Scott now let the palm of his hand trail up the snow covered hill of that very same stomach which made him unenvied, enjoying that it was soft and round, almost like an freakiushly large breast, but finding no real sexual stirring to go with it. Sex really meant very little to him now other than that it could make her happy.

Most people needed sex. The old, the ugly, the fat and unwanted included. This he had discovered on the streets and the long lines of Johns and Janes which had come to him; his own Erin included, with her virginity, her saved up money, timidity and her unattractive, thick stomach.

Yes, sex was the most sought after commodity, one found often for free but one some were still willing to pay for if the hand outs were either not available or desirable. Erin had been too shy to try anything else, afraid if she didn't pay for it she would end up being insulted after the guy had come. The fact that she had also wanted him the first moment she had seen him on the street had also played a large in her deciding to pay to lose her virginity.

And though he had taken her money, for Scott Favor it had been interesting to turn tricks for a client younger than he was at the time. Interesting but not exciting.

Sex was the one thing he could rarely find himself caring about. It was a body function,often pleasant,but nothing more. A need for release, to shoot off the accumulated cum in his balls so it wasn't too cumbersome or distracting. Sometimes, he found himself looking at the others surrounding him, or remembered his past life of being sold, and wondered why he was different. Sex could make the strongest weak and the most wise into idiots but he had been spared from it all in order to see the larger picture at hand and always be the strong, wise one retaining all the power.

Whom had spared him from the horrible burden of strong sexual desire. Whom should he thank? God? Nature? Someone else? Or merely himself.

His touch had turned too forceful in his thoughts and he watched Erin open her eyes and stare into his own, long free of sleep and filled now with contemplations and not grains of sand. The young woman's eyes were rather beautiful; the highlight of a face that could turn from being plain to pretty in the changing of her mood. Erin clutched her pillow then as she blinked a few times rapidly, suddenly shy (as she always was) at the realization that he was lying beside her naked.

Erin loved him in both ways emotional and physical. She could show a passion and a hunger not outright betrayed by her soft, gentle sweetness. But upon waking, the sight of her illicit lover staring at her completely exposed never failed to startle her. It was so opposite to the body she had hidden from him in the night then, all of his opposing sex on full display. Her eyes returned to his face, lingered there and then roamed down the length of his body, once more, stopping to stare at the organ he had used to take her with the previous night only then to hurry back to his face, her reddening cheeks harsh like a slap surrounded by the whiteness of the bedsheets.

"Hi," or "Hello," or "Morning," she would often say, believing if she could say one word it might be a shield she could use to protect herself with from the fact that he was naked and that she wanted him again. It was confessed there in her beautiful eyes, always changing color from gray to green to blue, in the way she grabbed her pillow instead of those parts she wanted to touch on him, how her lips parted and were soon wetted, desiring to have him to taste in some fashion.

Sometimes he would give to her what she wanted then, throwing her bedsheet off, rolling on top of her, kissing her, pushing his tongue inside of her mouth, almost as if he was forcing himself on her at the start and her eventual surrender. What had caused this need in her was something the woman seemed as lost to as he was to why the act of sex did not move him as it did countless others. Although this mixture of sex and violence almost created something...something inside of him. He did not want to hurt her but maybe he needed to in the same way she needed to be hurt.

Not that it was always like that. Often it was just a bit of pleasant morning sex, a receiving and giving, envelopment and penetration. Something to tide them both over with as she returned to her lowly situation of being a coat check girl at Jake's (a job he had procured for her) while he went to work and took care of what he needed to do for his loftier ambitions.

And after he had pounded into her until her coming and he had come as well, lest she think she had failed him and let it spoil the rest of her day, as silly and inconsequential things like that did within her damaged mind, he would roll off of the bed and start to dress for work after a quick shower to wipe the cream and cum from him, though the offices at City Hall were already drowning in both.

Usually when he returned to the bedroom, the one that used to belong to his father, Erin would have started to change the bed, still naked , but now unashamed, and he would remind her that he had help for that sort of thing. They'd stare at each other over it, as he fixed with his cufflinks, and he would see the truth in her eyes: that she did not wish anyone else to see the proof of their having had sex.

It was not truly their shared fluids on the bedsheets to the woman, that bit of sexual dirtiness she could live with, he would know.

It was their guilt.

That was harder to suffer.

Her eyes would dart to his ring finger and the fact that it was bare would make her seem more calm. The ring, of course, would be put back on once he had entered the limousine waiting outside. Scott Favor had already made the mistake of putting it on in the bedroom where he made love with Erin Smyth too many times after they had started to live together without actually acknowledging that they were living together.

The ring on his finger was as much their guilt as the wet dampened bedsheets.

Dressed now, claiming that he'd get his breakfast on the way out, he'd crossed over to the other side of the bed and kiss her, something she fell into like the snow which had spent the night that had led to this particular morning falling to the ground.

Her kiss was warm in contrast to the coldness which lay outside and Scott Favor found himself yet again some bit of heat in a house he had viewed as bone chilling in his youth. He'd hold her large naked body and she would grab his suit, free of all shyness now, and he'd consider and sometimes give in to the urge to have her again, but today his schedule would not allow it.

"Tonight," he promised and felt her head nodding against the shirt it was now pressed against, her hands clutching the lapels of his jacket as she had been clutching her pillow minutes ago...

* * *

Inside of the limo, staring out the window, Scott Favor saw a few bodies in store doorways, covered in snow and would wonder if he knew them and if they were still somebody to know at all. The snowfall and dip in the temperature could mean their death. Heads were lowered and the limo travelling too quickly to check for the rise and falls of chests.

Favor looked away and to the compartment in the back where he kept the ring of his marriage to Carmela. The sign of his adultery. Staring at it, the slightest reflection of himself twisted and cast in gold, Scott felt his own strong guilt linked to his misstress'.

But guilt was nothing new to him.

Guilt was knowing that there were hundreds of young men and young women on the streets, selling their bodies to decaying, musty old farts so that, even though it was freezing outside, at least, their stomachs would be full. And then you drove by them, warm in a limo and belly full from the breakfast you had just taken at a five star restaurant.

It was pounding into the fat girl you'd slept with years before because, at least, she had a pussy and you delighted in the power you held over her.

It was also that horrible feeling you were left with when you had tried to turn her into what you had become out of boredom and projection and she had refused to go through with the transformation.

Guilt could be found in the attempt to stifle it too. It was finding the same girl you wounded and trying to fix everything by making love to her instead of merely having sex. Guilt was because you had somewhere fallen in love with her, for real, but could not let her go now.

While you could not mold her into a prostitute you had made her mirror some of your guilt, because there was too fucking much of it for one soul to possess anyway.

Shame was the fact that the same bed you made love to her in would soon witness her sneaking out of it to pray by its side that God would forgive both uou and her because she could not let you go either.

It was when she crawled back in next to him, Scott Favor would then understand, seeing himself twisted in the ring, was probably when she had pulled the bedsheet around herself.

To protect herself from her guilt.

Which was really only you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> I spent the afternoon making out my Christmas cards and forging my sister's name on all of them. Don't worry, she gives me her permission to do that. Otherwise, I bother her too much by handing her a card and saying, "Can you sign this?"
> 
> With about thirty cards that can get annoying. 
> 
> Today, my hand got a cramp actually but a relative in England does about 300, so I'm not complaining.
> 
> Speaking of my British relatives, they keep having babies and I'm forgetting who'd who! It's like that memory game when you add another number. And one keeps getting forgotten about to make room for the new one. Sigh.
> 
> But I was sad today because some of our older friends have died or moved into retirement homes. It's sad. When you get older it seems like you're always losing things: memories, people.
> 
> That reminds me, I left a comment over at the BRZRKR Kickstarter today. 
> 
> Did you see, I changed my icon there to have a Santa Claus hat in order to be more festive? If you ever wondered why I changed that same icon from a photo of me to Dumbo (which you are probably blissfully unaware of me so the thought never even crossed your mind) it's because I rarely feel like the beautiful woman in that previous photo. I feel more like Dumbo: sweet, kind, quiet and chubby. But not male. I'm happy being a woman. No regrets there.
> 
> But, anyway, I commented on the anime Elfen Lied over there. 
> 
> I wanted to mention that I want the theme song Lilium to be the song played at my funeral, but then I knew that was probably too morbid to mention. I wouldn't mean to look too grave or dreary. It's just death is...well, it's only eventual so I think of things like that sometimes. Not in a tragic, horrified way just kind of curious. Like, I'm kind of excited about being a skeleton. I've often thought of the one lying under my skin. They're amazing really. So I think having/being a skeleton would be cool.
> 
> So, anyway, I want the song Lilium to be played at my funeral. Except when the pallbearers carry my coffin away, I want them to start playing Herb Alpert's Tijuana Taxi. Honk! For me, that would be a fine farewell/send off to my life: to have people cry because they loved me, but to make them laugh because I loved them. :)
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO   
> :D <3


	2. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erin gets her usual ride home.

She watched him leaving in the limo (a long black rectangle standing out amidst the white snow) from a window in the room which witnessed their lovemaking most nights. Erin stood there long enough to see it disappear and to admire the frost and ice, snow and fine powder which had covered everything over night. Cold things had always delighted her and admiring the delicate art to be found in a snowflake or the frost paintings on windows was a fantastic joy.

Letting the curtain fall back, she held herself feeling their chill entering her, though, the Favor mansion was heated and it was far different from her cold room at her other home with her mother and sister.

Sighing, Erin turned around to start on her own way to work, knowing she should take care of the bedsheets first.

* * *

Scott Favor had gotten her the job at Jake's. It was a fact she had never once forgotten as she spent the days and nights there taking the patrons coats and placing them in the room at the back, with the proper identifying numbers. If he hadn't she never would have been allowed to work there. Too large and shy, not unattractive but not doting on her appearance to be considered beautiful, the management would normally have taken one look at her, turned their noses up or cruelly laughed and she would have found herself back working at housecleaning or at the local McDonald's. But the Favors had influence in Idaho and she had been hired quickly enough to be able to give any of the extra income in her new pay to her mother and sister. This last was a fact that often made Scott roll his eyes, still enough of his old self left to wonder why she didn't keep her new small fortune for herself since she had earned it anyway.

It was ironic, however, that the very same place where she worked, she could never actually _afford_ a meal that would make her stomach refrain from growling. So on most days, she'd find her break spent rushing to a far more affordable diner a block away. There she would order up a meal that, in truth, smelt just as good as the stuff they served at Jake's but cost a great deal less.

Today was no different. And as Erin sat at her favorite little corner booth, waiting for her too hot coffee to cool and nibbling on a roast beef and cheddar sandwich, she contemplated the difference between the life of her lover and herself.

Scott often came into Jake's to eat by himself or with his associates. With his campaign preparing for the election next year, his visits were happening more often, the city offering its fair share of fine dining establishments but none as trendy or coveted as the one where she worked. He'd walk into the restaurant, looking like a model in his expensive suit and slicked back hair and as she took his coat, a secretive look was exchanged between them but nothing else.

Their relationship, while known by a few like the chauffeur and the maids, was otherwise kept secret. Favor was still a married man, after all, a fact Erin tried her best to forget. It mattered very little that his wife, Carmela, was back in Italy, where the couple had first met. Infidelity and adultery could still break a political candidate and affairs with fat girls were far from being envied or accepted. Scott had become well enough acquainted with the kinks and perversions of his fellow man during his time spent on the street. The men whom liked their lovers _big_ were often more shamed then those whom fancied them young or of the same sex.

It was a very shameful predilection, one Scott himself had tried to exploit her for: grooming her once in the hope he could sell her to someone who kept his love for big women contained to those whom he would pay for. That night had been one of the most bitter for her: Scott's betrayal, the realization that she had only been being manipulated and the knowledge that if the man she foolishly loved accepted her size it was only because he was immune to any true affection or attraction, a fact which made it easier for him to sleep with anyone if the price was right.

Or to use them too.

But somewhere along the way, the former hustler turned trust fund baby and inheritence millionaire had found his wealth very lonely and offered too much time for guilt. Scott had tried to make some form of atonement, taking into his heart and life one of the many people he had used for one last shot at redemption.

She had been the lucky one, Erin mused, swallowing a barely chewed piece of bread and beef.

So, he had secured the job for her and yet they pretended, whenever they met, that they meant nothing to each other, from the taking of his coat to the returning of it too, and she would finish the workday until it was time to go home with her usual attention.

It was then that she would find him waiting for her at the end of the street and she would climb into the limo first and then his waiting arms second.

Sometimes he could not wait until they arrived at his mansion to take her, starting their lovemaking in the back of the vehicle. It was more for the fantasy she understood than for any real desire or _need_ he held to have sex. For so long, he had given people the illusion of what they wanted so this was his natural way of pleasing her: to have sex right there and then without waiting, to make her feel that she created this passion and lust within him. As she'd take his cock in her hand, feeling it already raised and stiff, Erin understood this undeniable truth but complied to it as well; wanting him and the erection lying against her palm too badly to refuse.

In a way, Scott's transition into politics was no different than his hustling: it was all mostly just bullshit and the giving to people exactly what they wanted at the time but which in the end inevitably faded into unrealized reality.

How many people in the city played the same game of make believe with Scott Favor, she wondered now, the coffee and its heat forgotten about in the face of a thought which disturbed her. He'd been a hustler until his twenty first birthday, he'd appeared exposed in magazines, one which she had even bought and kept under her bed to fantasize and masturbate over when he had betrayed her and everyone else that loved him. Many people (herself included, once upon a time) had paid for the body he now gave to her freely.

Did he really think he could become mayor of the city, as his father had been, without any of his dark secrets floating to the top? Amongst them, the fact that he was fucking the fat coat check girl he'd gotten hired at the five star restaurant?

Erin felt the searing of her sore tongue from when she had forgotten the fact that the coffee was too hot to be swallowed and prayed that her lover never experienced a far more serious burn.

* * *

As if God had read her mind and wanted to tease her, Scott Favor came into the restaurant later that evening. He was in the company of one of his campaign managers and she took both men's coats, the aid hardly looking at her and Scott only glancing. Still there had been that one spark in his eye that had confessed a certain joy in seeing her. Folding the man's coats over her arms, Erin heard a bit of their conversation as she was leaving.

"She's the girl we had last time isn't she?" the older man asked.

"Yes."

"Well remember to tip her well; that will secure a vote."

"I _always_ tip her very well," came Scott's reply and Erin recognized the double meaning which went unnoticed by his companion.

At the end of the workday, the coatroom as empty as the main dining area, she put on her new blue coat and walked into the cold night, passing a group of hustlers on her way. They hardly looked at her twice, her coat and plain black skirt from Jake's not expensive enough to mark her as a target.

Like usual, the limousine was waiting for her at the end of the street. The door opened as she neared and she peered in seeing Scott looking up at her with his deceptively soft brown eyes. "Care to get hot?" he asked.

While the warmth of the car hit her, it was his smile, bright and naughty, that really caused her to glow. She climbed into the seat beside him, closing the door on the coldness and the hustlers questioning gazes of how she had procured a John for the night and they had not.

Her lips and Scott's were locked in a kiss lasting five seconds, followed immediately by one half that length, before the man in the immaculate suit parted from her and began to remove her clunky outergarmet. "Can I take your coat?" he asked in imitation, turning her around and sliding it off of her shoulders and arms before throwing it onto the floor.

"Take whatever you want," she replied, huskily, turning her head to look over her shoulder and see Favor's own closing in on her from behind.

The kiss was more passionate, longer.

"That reminds me, I've got your tip," he said and she felt it throbbing on the inner thigh of her right leg. It was so very hot compared to the skin there, made cold during the walk, that Erin shivered without intention.

"Scott," she whispered, kissing him again while he pulled her underwear down and gave to her the promised gratuity.

Erin trembled and huddled closer to herself in his embrace, her entrance receiving in welcome her lover's cock.

"Is that enough to secure your vote?" he asked teasingly, licking the back of her neck.

"More than enough," she whispered, causing him to thrust behind her.

Favor's hands crawled to her front and began to undo the buttons on her blouse, skillfully removing the rest of the top of her coatcheck girl ensemble until jacket, blouse and even bra had joined the blue coat on the limo's floor.

Her breasts now were graced with the attention of his hands and she moaned and cooed at their stimulation, arching her back and pushing them upwards so she could fall back into his kiss.

"It's snowing again," her lover casually commented after the kiss had ended but their lovemaking continued.

She rested her head against his shoulder to turn and see for herself.

His cock felt wonderfully warm buried deep within her as she looked out the windows, quickly fogging over, to see snow falling and further covering everything outside. She was grateful that the windows were tinted, a luxury which would not allow freezing passerbys to view her heated pleasure in return.

She gasped out, more a cry, as Scott rubbed her tingling nipples and squeezed the plentiful flesh aroud them. His warm length pushed further in and she marveled at how hot it felt while the cold surrounded them, failing to penetrate them as Scott was doing with her body.

How warm was the soul inside of the deliciously warm body of Scott Favor, Erin wondered, while he brought a finger to her parted lips and let her suck on it, her orgasm fully coming.

Had she helped the frost on Scott's soul continue to thaw the night of their reunion. Or had the ice taken hold of it again?

Was her love of cold things preventing her from seeing the truth?

Crying out loudly in her satisfied need, feeling Scott giving in to his own orgasm, she couldn't find an answer. All she had was the proof of his body spasming and shooting off a vast amount of his cum inside of her.

And that one act had never truly given away too much of the man's feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> Keanu! Keanu! Christmas is coming! Christmas is coming! It's a week until Christmas Eve! :O I'm so excited! 
> 
> I'm excited about the Mandalorian episode too! I hope that Grogu is okay. I used to read my fair share of Mandalorian fanfics but I don't anymore. It was just natural to stop. The urge was no longer there. I'm so pleased with the storyline on the show that my needs are already being met in that department. 
> 
> It's funny how much creatures of need we are. We really are needful things, like the name of the book. Usually, though, when the need is met we don't go looking for more. Unless the person is greedy.
> 
> It's like in Knock Knock, Evan's speech about free pizza is true but at the same time *something* must have been missing from his life to cheat. It didn't have to be about sex. It could have been that he wanted to feel free again or not have to worry about being a father or even having the kids interrupt the act of sex. Or maybe he no longer loved his wife but couldn't admit it.
> 
> It's not an excuse but a reason.
> 
> I mean even if you loved pizza, if you were already too full you wouldn't touch the free stuff. Like last year, our friends down the street, the one Tom Cat left my sister and I for, got us each a Swiss Chalet Chicken dinner. Okay. So it was debatable that it was really chicken. It tasted and looked more like pigeon. But it was sweet gift and it was a bird, at least. Then my mother's friends, the ones that used to run the funeral home across the street, brought over two chickens! They do that in memory of mom. Although this year, they are both in homes in Ottawa so we'll be eating Christmas dinner and thinking of them. I hate losing people.
> 
> So there was about four chickens. Then what happens? Our neighbour brought over two large plates featuring a Turkey Christmas supper for each of us! Well, by that time, we were very grateful but also too full of poultry to eat anymore.
> 
> When a need is more than being met, and the person is decent, it usually is enough.
> 
> That's why I started this series. My need to be with you in some form was painfully, woefully unfulfilled. But I couldn't write *you* so your wonderful and varied filmography of characters was close enough. So, once again, I write to fulfill that need because I love you and I'll keep writing and watching and rewatching your films, keeping an eye out for your new ones, so I can see you and feel full.
> 
> But I would still love to see you on the Mandalorian. That need still hasn't been satisfied. ;D
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


	3. Dirty Pearl Necklace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Erin discuss an old friend.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you like me more than you did Carmela?"

She did this sometimes, Scott thought opening his eyes to look at Erin staring at him in the dark; he knew that her own eyes were looking at him, large and beseeching from the whites of them which were clearly visible.

Snow had that effect. For some reason its whiteness caught and lit up the bedroom, making it easier to see things.

Perhaps it was the almost complete honesty in their relationship, her knowing his full past as a hustler and his awareness of every part of her body, as well as the first hand knowledge that she had been willing to pay for it to be known, but this allowed Erin to ask him point blank at times what others might have been too fearful to ask their partner.

Most lovers kept such thoughts to themselves, preferring their insecurity and jealousy to fester underneath their surface.

Still there remained enough room for what she couldn't bring herself to say.

_"Am I only here because she is not?"_

_"Would we be lying here now if she hadn't left you?"_

Her wording betrayed the fear she kept too...

"Do you _like_ me more than you did Carmela?"

Love was kept out of it.

He brought a hand to her suprisingly small, white shoulder, another snowy hill, and touched the skin. "I like you more," he replied, knowing it wasn't one of his manipulations. He was suddenly glad that she hadn't used the word love, however. He was still unsure which girl he _loved_ more: could he claim to love the plump girl whom was a companion to stave off loneliness and damnation in the same passionate way he had craved the Italian farm girl?

Impossible to tell for a man unsure if his love was truly even genuine or not.

At least, he had been spared by her word choice from confessing that he loved Erin at all, Scott thought. What he felt for her was love within his judgement but it would always be better for her not to know that and believe that she could use it against him if her sweet character ever altered.

He did _like_ Erin more than Carmela, though, so there was that.

He was grateful that the interrogation was over when she had to go and ask him "Why?" while she stared at him, her eyes glistening as water filled them from what she understood was his honest answer. She was always very good at telling his bullshit from his truth. Thinking of this he replied, "Carmela was innocent but naive; I like you because you are innocent without the gullibility..."

He saw the whites of the eyes obscured, his lover blinking from the harshness of his word choice.

"Did she know about you being a hustler?" Erin asked.

Scott stared at the whites of her eyes, gradually making more of her out the longer his eyes became focused and used to the darkness. "Yeah, she found out in pieces here and there. Women's intuition...she gradually saw what I was, didn't like it and left. I guess, you could say I robbed you of your virginity and Carmela of her naivete..."

Thank God, this made her silent for a bit but what she said next was worse in its way because it was another reminder of someone else he had wounded once through his romance with the Italian farm girl. "Did you like Carmela more than Mike?"

He sighed loudly in frustration, upset she had pretty well conjured up the one name which could make him feel more guilty than any, besides Bob Pigeon's or Erin's own before he had reunited with her. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "I know that you aren't gay so you didn't love Mike the way he wanted you to... but love isn't liking and it isn't friendship either."

He thought of the question. Mike Waters had been his only real friend, a fellow street hustler whom had fallen in love with him. People were like that rich or poor. They always wanted what they couldn't have. He thought of how he had chosen to abandon Mike and found a certain joy in the power of hurting the man. But had he liked Carmela more than his narcoleptic friend?

"No, I guess, I didn't," Favor confessed.

"Why don't we go and find him? Then you can tell him yourself." Erin suggested almost in excitement.

"With the election coming up?" Scott Favor asked.

"Why not?" she asked. "You could claim it's a road campaign. Do you know where he is?"

"Back with his brother the last I heard. His father too..."

"I thought Mike only knew his mother?"

"His brother was his father," Scott said with a cynical laugh. "Guess mother and son got pretty close all alone like that."

Scott Favor thought of his father and instantly threw the thought away.

"Gross huh?"

Erin thought about it for a few seconds, quietly. "Guess it depends if it was what he wanted or not," she finally mused. "If they were in a lot of pain and loved each other..."

He snickered in the dark. "You read too much V.C Fucking Andrew's."

She seemed hurt by the comment but fell back to her previous topic of conversation for safety. "Well, it would be nice to see Mike again. You can finally tell him what you told me: that you're sorry. Then it will be us three again, friends...like when Bob was alive."

Scott swore in the darkness. "What you aren't one of those women are you? Hoping I'll get Mike's forgiveness like I did yours and you can watch?"

The whites came and went quickly as she blinked in rapid sucession. "No...I just want you to have another person that cares for you back in your life."

Of course it wasn't what she had meant, Scott understood. She loved him and the thought of seeing him with anyone else damaged her in ways she kept to herself. She had been friends with Mike, though, and had expressed in veiled hints throughout their time together that Waters deserved his apology. But the reminder of his transgression had irked enough of the old Scott Favor into resurrection and an attempt to try to manipulate her into the desired submission.

"Maybe you'd want us to go and find Carmela too? Maybe you'd like to watch me fucking her into forgiving me, Erin?" he continued. "Maybe you'll let me watch you two fuck..."

He was starting to enjoy himself, his dirty words clear in the dark as opposed to his lies spoken in the daylight of his office, when she turned her back suddenly on him, her smooth, pale back a wall in the dark bedroom.

He felt shocked into stopping himself. He realized instantly that he had lost his hold on becoming a better man in order to be the old one, which was so much easier a journey. But seeing his lover's shoulders shaking, he felt the new Scott's heart warm itself back into existence, just as their bodies had mutually been made hot inside of the limo.

"I'm sorry," he said, going to touch her shoulder but her shrugging it off, seeing the bedsheet fall away from her in the process, revealing her ample buttocks.

It was too easy to fall into his old tricks, Scott thought as he lowered his gead to the two large mounds, reading what people wanted from him and how to make them feel good.

"No Scott," he heard her protest, not wanting him to seduce her away from her anger.

But sex and seduction were what he knew best, Scott Favor thought, as he pushed his face into the nestle where her thighs joined underneath her cheeks. He began to lick the tender flesh there, letting his tongue be slow and bold. It was a secret act which always turned her on. Now too, she moaned from his wet tongue tracing every fold that was presented to him on her underside, and she arched her back, parting her legs for him to push in deeper with his same searching tongue. Erin squealed as his it began to taste her hole.

"I...I didn't get a chance to...to wash up," she moaned, even in the depth of her pleasure thinking of him.

His mouth busy, he proved to her that he didn't really care, his hand snaking around to the front to tease her. It found her budding clit soon enough and toyed with it mercilessly.

"Scott...unh...too good," she moaned again, rubbing her full ass into his face and relinquishing her wounded feelings for this heated moment of physical intimacy.

His tongue went in deeper still, his fingertip moving more frantically at the front as she screamed out loudly, making his fingers wet with her coming.

She was panting and he was hard lower down on the length of his body as he pulled out, immediately pushing Erin onto her back so he could satisfy himself. Moonlight, given brightness by the snow, fell on her. The sheet completely off now, revealing her overweight form and her large breasts. Her legs were bent and she separated them for him more to allow him entry. But as he prepared to slip his erection into her already wet hole, she looked up at him yearningly, her lips parted.

"The other one," she stated breathlessly, suffering the prolonged bliss of her last orgasm.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

It wasn't that they never had before.

He'd had the young woman lying before him in about every way possible. Some she had even paid him to do to her and he'd known her ass just as often with his cock as he had with his tongue. But, still, he wanted to make sure that it was something she wanted.

Erin nodded shyly, her breasts falling up and down in exaggeration. Not taking her word for it, he could tell from a simple running on his finger up the labia to her clit that she wasn't lying: she wanted it badly.

Studying her face, an art in chiaroscuro in the moonlight, he wondered if this was her own way of confronting what he had been in the past. It was something that Carmela had been ultimately unwilling to accept: his past with sleeping with men for pay. But whereas she had run back to Italy and her sheltered little farm, leaving him alone to grow a conscience, Erin didn't turn away; she preferred to face it head on and try to conquer or embrace it within her mind.

Scott dipped his fingers into her, checking to make sure her anus was wet still from his tongue and to try to stretch it a bit. He found that her cream had pooled there also. Regardless, he collected some from her cunt to coat his ready cock with. Lifting her legs onto his shoulders he moved closer, on the verge of sliding his penis into her less used hole. Seeing her look of anxious excitement, he reached forward to play with her breasts, always a surefire way to arouse her more.

While she was sighing in ecstasy, Scott began to push himself in, watching more confused bliss on her face. In turn, he experienced his own as her ass gradually, slowly devoured him. When he brought his fingers to her clit he found it swollen incredibly and she wriggled and thrusted her hips as she took him in almost completely, liking either the pleasure or the pain.

They continued on with their bit of anal play until she came for a second time and he pushed himself towards his own. It was the innocence and erotic expression on her face which made him come. He liked the mixture, found it as equally titillating as her pain and pleasure. However, before he unleashed, he pulled out, coming all over her large chest like a fountain with no morals. She cooed happily as she watched his cock spewing seed all over her, hitting her raw nipples and making them glisten in the light of the moon. She rubbed it in, letting her foot rub against his naked buttocks at the same time.

Scott Favor lay over her then, falling down on her like a tree being felled, but catching himself from hitting her by his left arm breaking the fall. He used his cum to draw a necklace on the skin around her throat. "Remember when I promised to buy you a real one when I turned twenty one?" he asked, bringing his finger eventually to her mouth to suck the jizz off of.

"Yes," she answered when the only thing left on his fingertip was her spit.

"I'm a little late but I still have to do that," he commented.

"This one is good enough," she stated, grabbing his head and pulling him down into a kiss. "It always has been."

Returning the kiss, knowing that the girl meant every word she had said, Favor realized that he _did_ love Erin more than Carmela after all. He could not tell her this though. Trying to change as he was, weakness was still something Scott Favor abhored. Giving Erin some dirty sheets to clean in the morning so she could feel as if she had washed out her own sins was the best that he could offer her.

Just as the cost of the plane ride back to Italy and an allowance sent every month to the requested bank had been the best he could do for Carmela.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> This reminds me of the time when some patrons of my local library were upset they carried books like "The Pleasure of Anal Sex." My ex boss' girlfriend, whom runs the local women's shelter, was on the news supporting the library for having them.
> 
> My mom called me to see her. When I looked in the background, I saw myself! :O Well, the back of me. I had no idea that was going on behind me. If I ever discover the pleasures of anal sex, I hope I won't have the same problem. :/
> 
> The other day, I read an interview with you where you seemed to fall back on placing other ideals on horror films to make them artistic: "...all of those genre pictures can sometimes be Trojan Horses for ideas and confrontation."
> 
> I enjoy a good Trojan Horse but I also like horror films just for being horror films. I wrote an essay on them for school because I love them so much. And I like me a man whom can enjoy one just for what it is. That guy has balls and my respect.
> 
> So today, I got excited when I read this from the younger version of you: 
> 
> "Because I liked the guy who did "Evil Dead II". If it's schlock and it's superficial and it's frightening and it's scary and it's outrageous and it's clever and it's fun."
> 
> Hee hee. I like that guy. Is he still inside of you? If he is, I'd like to tell him that I'm glad he turned down "Fly 2" because it traumatized me with the mutated dog and the man at the end. And I wish I could tell him how I love Bruce Campbell in the ED series. In ED II when he sees that bracelet and breaks down...that's brilliant. It is funny and utterly heartbreaking all at once.
> 
> You were also extremely intelligent knowing that The Exorcist's popularity was all about titillation. You didn't fall back on the Trojan Horses of its popularity being derived from religion or youthful disobedience; you knew it was because of the gross out factor and the sex.
> 
> You weren't stupid, Keanu. You weren't any of those false notions that people hold on to because it's easier. You were honest and full of bullshit and completely wonderful and special.
> 
> And you still are.
> 
> But I'm afraid you and I wouldn't mesh sometimes from those interviews. This week I've seen you described as a hippie, artsy (your own evaluation) and a new age beatnik. I've never been attracted to any of those things! My sister can vouch for the fact that when I heard Harold refer to Egon as a new age Spock I was horrified. I never saw him like that, but reading the script I knew that was the intent. Luckily my Harold isn't the greatest actor; he was pretty insecure and shy. So, it worked out and Egon turned out more odd than new agey.
> 
> I'm worried now that we'd be like Bob McFadden and Dor's song "The Mummy." Do you know it? If you don't, go and listen to it because it's funny. 
> 
> I'm afraid now that I'd want to be with you, just like the mummy laments that he always scares people away and just wants someone not to be afraid of him. Eventually he finds one: this beatnik. Just like if I met you and you actually *liked* me. Only then the beatnik starts annoying the mummy. He acts a certain way and insults the mummy's love of the novelty song "Kookie, Kookie, Lend Me Your Comb." Then the mummy just wishes the man would be scared, scream and go away.
> 
> That whole adage: be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.
> 
> Of course, there would still be the option to make you scream in another way. The line about having deviant sex with your girlfriend was intriguing.
> 
> But even then there would be a problem. If I'm not attracted to you emotionally/mentally we'd be screwed because we couldn't screw! When I don't like a guy, a block goes up in my head and body and I couldn't care less about having sex with him. I know a lot of people would think I was crazy for feeling that way, especially when it comes to you (and remember this is all hypothetical because the chance of you wanting to have sex with a big nobody like me is near nonexistent) but I just couldn't. Sex means more to me than just the physical. That's a big part of it but without love and attraction its hollow and wouldn't really be satisfying or fun. 
> 
> When I see you I feel attracted. Most of the time I just love you even when I don't agree with you. But I'm not delusional enough to think that what's in my head is the truth. And I don't want to be Pepe le Pew, halfway down the street.
> 
> I would much rather be by your side.
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3
> 
> P.S. Keanu, if you tell someone something for the first time and they ask to hear more about one thing you kept private but don't ask about something you talked about only with 1 other person is that an indication that they already knew about it? Does that mean people are talking about you behind your back or that they are the same person? Is it ok to be hurt? Yeah. I already know the answer. I just wanted to mention it here.


	4. Skeleton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day of reunions for Scott Favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I think I'm getting the hang of things again...

"You're married aren't you?"

"What?" Scott asked, taking a drink from the Chablis he had requested at Jake's. He'd heard the question perfectly fine but it failed to sink into his brain, his campaign manager, Bruce Neiman, having sprung it on him right after a discussion regarding a photography session for his campaign posters and the young politician not seeing the connection immediately.

"You _are_ still married? Bruce asked. "You haven't filed for a divorce?"

Scott thought of Carmela over in Italy, comfortable with her allowance, an existence where she was allowed to keep her morals by remaining far away from him. He in turn thought of Erin getting her hands dirty in the process of trying to _save_ his tarnished soul. This was business and politics, though, and not a discussion on romance so he placed both women aside to focus coldly on the question alone.

"Yes, I'm still married," he replied icily, setting the glass down.

Neiman looked pleased. "She's a beauty if I remember..."

Favor squirmed in his chair. "Yes. Carmela _is_ attractive."

"She'd look great standing next to you on that poster," the man said. "She'd make even more of the male voters see themselves as you and win their vote. Plus, if we generate the image of you as a handsome and yet happily married man, we can pull in even more women too."

A surge of wanting to comply to get as much popularity as possible almost enticed Scott Favor to send for his estranged wife as soon as he returned to the office but he struggled past it to remark, "But I am _not_ happily married Bruce; that why she's back in Italy."

"Who the hell is these days?" the older man continued undaunted. "Send for her though, Scott. We meet with Frederick Hoffmann at three today to arrange the photographs but he won't shoot until closer to Spring. He's too backed up. She could make it to the States by then."

Ignoring everything else to center on the name which sounded vaguely familiar, Scott repeated it in question.

"He's very well established, does good work and is still relatively cheap."

"For when you skim off the top of the funds?" Scott asked, taking another drink.

His lunch partner looked momentarily taken aback but then composed himself. "I only take my fee."

Scott fixed him with a glare from eyes made darker by the previous unwanted conversation and sat back in the chair. "One high enough to ensure that come November I'm sitting in office."

Bruce stared back at him unblinking. "Of course...as long as you don't have any skeletons in your closet. Those are the only thing that could stop you, Scott."

Images from a life long since dead passed briefly across his memory: Bob Pigeon, Mike, a myriad of other hustlers and Johns and Janes. But Favor refused to blink once either as he replied, "None whatsoever."

The meal was finished shortly thereafter and one of Erin's coworkers brought them their jackets instead of the plump girl herself. Scott found himself missing even a short glimpse of her before he headed back to the office.

"Where's the usual girl?" Bruce asked, putting on his jacket. "The fat one?"

The new girl, svelte and blonde, smiled and looked up with an ignorant tilt of her head.

Scott could have told the man that it was her day off but that would have revealed that he knew her schedule and implicated him in something undesirable. The man having remembered that he was married now would have also then deduced that his candidate was an adulterer, never a good thing when trying to become mayor.

As if reading his thoughts, Bruce Neiman commented, "It's a good thing you aren't fucking the regular coat check girl here; that would hardly get you any votes, other than from the Jenny Craig club."

 _"Say something; stand up for her...you love her; it should be easy,"_ a voice entered Scott's head as a rage flickered inside of him. Still its flame was too dull and he kept his mouth shut as he stepped outside and into the coldness. Loving someone other than himself still did not come easy for Scott Favor.

* * *

After visiting her family, Erin found she had little to do but to return to the Favor mansion. Her days off were like that and although Scott kept giving her his credit card and urging her to go out and use it, it always remained inside of her wallet untouched. It was as if using his body and bed each night she was aghast to use his money then too.

Or maybe she was still used to being the one to have to pay for _him_ , she thought.

The help at the manor suffered her presence but there was little actual warmth from them. With her low social status, they saw her simply as being on their level and had no great desire to go out of their way to impress her.

 _"They think I'll be gone soon,"_ Erin thought, passing a maid on the staircase and not receiving even a nod.

She made her way to the room she visited often when Scott was away but could never tell him. It had been his mother's room she understood and it contained the only glimpses she would ever have of a young Scott Favor. Closing the door and locking it behind her, Erin would roam through it, looking at the old photographs of a very young Scott at a time in his life when his mother had been present.

She sat on the floor, the chairs too expensive for her poor and overly large ass, and would open the family photo albums and stare at the long dead image of her lover. Seeing his sad face, younger but still recognizable, Erin would ask him, "Were you ever happy?"

She could not tell.

"Was there a time when you had never been broken?" she would then ask and picture him inside of his mother's womb, wondering if he had felt deceptively safe there or if the world had somehow managed to seep in through the woman's pores and scar him even in there.

* * *

Frederick Hoffmann came into the office to arrange the meeting and Scott Favor spun around to shake his hand in introduction only to find out that one was not needed.

The man was instantly familiar, from his small stature of five feet four, his graying beard and the graceful and light way he carried himself across the room.

It was obvious that the man was aware of whom he was, Favor understood, long before this moment of almost paralyzing remembrance in return from him. Somehow he managed to calm himself as Neiman came to stand between them. "Scott this is Frederick Hoffmann, the man who will be handling you for the photo shoots."

The word choice made the photographer almost smile in mischievious and lascivious glee while Scott felt a feeling of needing to be sick, almost _violently_ sick.

"Charmed," the photographer said.

And as the son of Portland's former mayor took the man's veined, bird like hand, he tried to forget that it was not the first time they had ever touched.

They sat at the board meeting table and discussed the concept behind the campaign promotional material while Scott raged inwardly over what the fucking point was when a photograph was merely a photograph and tried to keep his legs from shaking.

"You will make _quite_ the subject," Hoffmann commented. "You have the kind of face one doesn't forget easily..."

Scott glared at him from across the table. He weighed the option of telling Neiman he wished for another photographer the moment the man stepped out the door but decided against it. To wave a healthy lump sum of money in front of the photographer and then taking it away would make him as angry as waving a handsome model before the lens of his camera and the model telling him no.

"Thank you," Scott commented, politely.

"Yes, I dare say, you'll fetch many a vote from us Idahoans...even, perhaps some of the people off of the _streets_..."

His stomach almost turned again and Scott Favor felt himself drifting off into the place he had gone to often whenever he wished to be safe and unfeeling, ever since he had been a child.

"Yes, that's the point," Bruce said, oblivious to the true meaning behind the words. "We want him to accessible to the common man..."

Hoffmann choked back another chuckle.

"So we can expect to see you again in about two months?" Neiman continued.

"Certainly," Frederick said standing. "You _know_ where the studio is?" The question would stay what it was on the surface to the campaign manager but Scott knew it wasn't a question at all to the candidate himself.

This belief was further strengthened as their hands were once more linked, this time over the oaken table, and with Neiman, gone to open the door, the photographer leaned ever so slightly over the table and whispeted two words:

"Male Call."

The man then swept out of the room with his uncommon grace, leaving Scott alone with only Bruce Neiman and his restless thoughts.

"I'm going home," Scott announced abruptly.

"What? Now?" Bruce said. "Aren't you working on the..."

"I'll get to it," Scott interrupted quickly. "Some of the files I left in my office back home. I can do it there."

Bruce studied him but if he noticed that Favor had lost all the coloring to his face, he kept his mouth shut. Just like he was thankfully paid to do. "Fine," the older man said, placing his hands back inside of his pockets.

Scott Favor nodded, still within his safe place.

* * *

Erin was in the bedroom she shared with Scott when he found her. She was fixing with the sheets on the bed when the young politician burst in. She barely had time to note his intense and pinched expression before he immediately took her into his arms and kissed her roughly. She made one deep gasp for breath as the man then began to tear her clothing off. She had never seen her lover this aggressive before when it had not been something she had specifically requested. His passion was something always stifled a little and this unexpected tempest startled her.

But then this had little to do with actual passion, she understood. It was an act far more related to _anger_ and Scott Favor had decided to unleash it all on her.

"Scott?" she asked in question as he pulled his cock out, as fierce looking as he was. But he would not answer or say a word as he pushed her forcefully down onto the bed and then with equal strength pushed himself inside of her too.

Erin lay beneath him feeling him pounding into her without much thought given to anything but his own release. Her body was responding but was also finding it difficult after a time to _enjoy_ what was being done to her, the violence and rage behind each thrust.

"Scott, you're hurting me!" she eventually cried, his force and rhythm too much for her even though it was makimg her climax. She felt a slight tearing but he came too before hearing her words it seemed.

She was crying a little as he finally _saw_ her and guilt flashed across his features. His hand instinctively carressed her face and then he lowered his forhead to hers before falling by her side and scooping her into his arms, moving her large body on top of his as if in penance and to lessen his strength over her.

"Why?" she asked in muffled shock.

He was shaking as he held her. It was the smallest of tremors but she could feel it against her naked flesh like an earthquake. "The guy who Bruce hired to take the damn campaign posters...he took photos once of me for a queer rag. Then he paid me to fuck him afterwards."

Erin began to catch his shaking now. But while his had been mooted, she allowed hers to come unhindered. "Oh Scott," she said, holding his face. She lowered her own to kiss him, her hair brushing his skin.

* * *

Scott felt his lover's curled tresses touching his cheek as she lowered her face to kiss him. They were soft as were her lips and he felt sudden regret that he had forced himself on her so constrastingly harsh in an act of violent sex. His old self had needed it; it had been all he could understand in that moment even at the cost of her understanding. Hoffmann had wounded him by _knowing_ him and so he had turned that rage on one of the only people whom had also _known_ the old Scott Favor. Fucking Erin, he had no longer felt like the trapped animal he had been in the board room.

He had regained his _power_.

But now seeing her face wet with tears, and the pain he had caused her, his new self returned with all his cursed guilt. That she offered him her love once more mixed with pity comforted him at the same time it enraged the part of himself he was trying to kill.

How dare the fat girl he had used _dare_ feel sorry for him? _She_ was the pitiful one, it argued.

Scott didn't fall to it though.

Some other Scott Favor, one which had lived and died long before the hustler had ever turned his first trick, was enjoying the woman's comfort. Her almost motherly solace, tinged with a smattering of _need_ that his newest incarnation could satisfy, was appealing to him and he responded in a rare moment of nakedness. His hands found the large swells of her side breasts first as their kiss deepened and then eventually the even larger hills of her buttocks, where his seed had leaked on to. He pushed her into him, making the kiss grow until they both needed to breathe and so parted reluctantly.

In this instance, seeing her looking down at him, Scott suffered the horrible feeling of the words "I love you," being born on his tongue.

Only to feel them die almost instantly as a call came from outside the room where he had dwelt for months with his mistress in something close to peace.

"SCOTT!" Carmela Favor was calling out loudly in her unmistakable accent as she presumably was coming up the staircase. "SCOTT!"

And Erin and the owner of the name both looked to the door in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> Hearing the recent talk about Joss Whedon, it reminded me of an earlier note to you where I said I hate cancel culture because a work of film, music etc... is usually a collaborative effort and to erase it means losing the effort of many and not just one. 
> 
> I mean, if I cancelled Whedon I'd have to cancel "Speed". He helped bring your vision of Jack to the film, didn't he?
> 
> I don't want to do that! I know it's not your favorite but it is one of mine.
> 
> Telling my sister in the backseat as my mom drove down the Queensway that I wanted to see it...
> 
> That New Year's Eve watching it with the sound down...
> 
> So, no, I refuse to do that.
> 
> Then thinking about cancel culture and the desire to erase certain people and their work entirely, to ostracize them, it made me realize another reason why it upsets me. There is no forgiveness in it, no mercy. I remember a certain man once saying, "He who is without sin cast the first stone..." 
> 
> When Jesus said that nobody could do it. I'm worried today that the rage and self righteousness is so high nobody would hesitate. Most of Jesus Christ's teachings were to oppose and expose the hypocrisy of those whom acted sinless. He wanted people to look inside of themselves and not to judge but to allow for second chances and to forgive.
> 
> I don't mean to in any way minimalize the pain the victims went through. Knowing that Joss Whedon ridiculed Charisma Carpenter for her faith brings back painful memories of the times I was mocked on Twitter for my own beliefs. That was painful. I had a mental breakdown in 2013 because of it.
> 
> But, as a Christian, I would be ignoring the faith I claim to believe in if I did not give someone the opportunity to change and hope that one day they might be able to find that capability within themselves. 
> 
> There was a theological debate once. Some of the greatest theologians were arguing about what made Christianity different. They couldn't find an answer. All religions had love etc...then C.S. Lewis walked through the door late. He asked what he had missed. When informed about the question he said, "That's easy: it's the mercy."
> 
> That is what makes me angry with so many Christians. They forget the mercy and deem themselves as perfect when nobody is. They drive people away from the God Whom loves them. 
> 
> I always remember this poem my mom showed me when I was about 18 and my OCD was fully emerging and I felt in so much pain:
> 
> "I never met a man so bad, but some virtue rare he had,  
> I never met a man so good, but I could find fault if I could,  
> And so I find no certain call,  
> To judge my fellow man at all."
> 
> We all try and fail and we are all capable of good and bad. And I have no wish to steal from any human being whom truly feels remorse the chance of redemption and to learn from their mistakes. 
> 
> I request the same thing too.
> 
> I only pray for a day when justice will exist and where mercy can be threaded through it, if the victim is willing and if the guilty is deserving because they truly understand what they did and why it was so horribly wrong.
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


End file.
